Tell me the Truth
by becile
Summary: Marian Hawke is a slave to the cruel Magister Leto. Finding freedom through a sister she never knew she had, Marian happily thought she would never see her former master again.
1. Receiving the Letter

Marian Hawke stopped breathing. She gave her thumb and forefinger a quick lick before smothering the flame of a small candle with them. The room settled into darkness just as heavy footsteps in the hall neared. The patrolling guard stopped. Marian continued to hold her breath while she slowly shimmied into a lying down position in her child-sized bed. She was twenty years old and had long outgrown the bed; her legs draped over the sides or over the frame, but never found a comfortable position. Her dangerously forbidden contraband was slipped under her too-flat pillow carefully, slowly, but the guard had stepped into the room at just the precise moment to see the slight movement Marian had made. Light flooded the room as the other slaves in their tiny beds hastily lit their matches and then their candles when the guard began yelling. Marian was torn from her bed by her arm. The too-thin sheets were stripped from the battered mattress. The too-flat pillow flew off with them. The book was found.

Each time the whip struck Marian's back she thought of a word.

As. Hand. Time. Cat. Cup. Foot.

Each time Marian felt the blood pour from the open scars she would count as high as she could until the pain covered her conscience in red ink.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight -

Sick. Wood. Tree. Dog.

Marian spelled the words in her head. She had to, or she would forget. The pain was a tool they used to make you forget, to make you scared, to make you quiet. It never worked on Marian. A guard had caught her trying to read six times. Each time, the whipping was lengthened. Now Marian cannot see. She cannot feel. She is the red ink covering her own conscience, retreated so far into herself that she cannot be roused for hours. She is punished when she wakes up for being asleep so long. Doesn't she know she has duties to attend to? Doesn't she know the Magister requires his bodyguard today? How dare she think to shirk her duties. No food. No water. Not until she crawls into the kitchens, pale-faced, and starving, and apologizes for her existence. Maybe then she will be allowed to eat with the hounds.

Marian entered her Master's quarters. These rooms were the private living quarters of the Magister, accessible only by those with a key to the entrance and explicit permission granted to them. The entire area was more like a second mansion than just the Magister's personal suites. Unlike the main areas of the mansion (the formal entrance, the sitting room, the kitchens, the dining hall, the ballroom, and all other public rooms), there were no slaves past this point. Officials and personal acquaintances of the Magister's were the only people allowed to freely walk these halls. If a slave was made to enter it was restricted to specific rooms, and only to tidy them up and then leave. Marian, as the Magister's personal bodyguard, was the only person of slave-status allowed in to this branch of the mansion frequently.

Meetings with the Master were unpredictable; his face never betrayed his thoughts, and his hands could strangle as quickly as they could caress. Marian detested him. Oh yes, she wished she could tell him how she knew that whippings had been outlawed two years ago as punishment for minor misdemeanors, how she knew that what was done to her last night was cruel and unusual punishment for reading and was borderline illegal. She knew how he was one of the only Magisters to use the whip freely to keep slaves in line. Scars made slaves less valuable and made their masters look like tyrants, but in his twisted mind, Master Leto wanted to be seen as tyrannical, Marian was convinced of that. The ugly scars on her back gave him a sense of pride, she was sure, a belief that her flesh was his to warp as he pleased. And wasn't it? She belonged to him. Questioning this unquestionable fact could be seen as dangerously rebellious.

Perhaps Marian was rebellious. Master Leto allowed her free range of the mansion and grounds. Still allowed her to carry a weapon on her person whenever she wished. This taste, this tiny freedom – for any other it may have been near torturous. She could have so much more, if she wished! What was stopping her? The want for autonomy was there, faintly, as it was in all slaves as they gazed upon their glorious Master, with all his freedoms and power, but an urge, a force that would drive her to seek liberty was not there. Marian was not rebellious. She had been conditioned to not be rebellious.

Marian lowered her head and slumped when Leto entered the room. This change of posture was expected, almost courteous, of a human belonging to an elf. Marian matched Leto's height, but she was inferior to him, so she made herself smaller.

Leto tore into the room, eyes dead set on Marian. Instead of a haughty smirk, his lips were a poisonous scowl. In his hand was a thin, square paper. He shoved it into Marian's face and she stumbled backwards as his palm smashed into her nose.

"What the fuck is this?" Leto demanded. Marian couldn't possibly reply in time, nor could she get out of the way of his hand as he shoved her further backwards.

"Kneel, dog," the Magister spat, and Marian dropped to her knees instantly. "Explain this to me. **Now**." Marian reached out to take the piece of paper, which was not, in fact, a piece of paper but was an envelope, but her hand was smacked down.

"Slaves don't receive mail, bitch." Leto strode past her, furiously re-reading the address on the envelope. Marian dared not move. "You will tell me who you have been conspiring with."

"No one, Master." Swore Marian. The evidence clearly outweighed her, but there was one obvious flaw in it. "I would not be able to exchange letters with anyone. I cannot read nor write."

The Magister had circled back around and now stood beside Marian. He gripped her chin and forced her head to turn towards him. "You would lie to my face?" He growled. "You were caught reading last night. I will not tolerate you trying to make a fool of me." Marian's neck was twisted in an extremely uncomfortable way, and Leto's hold on her face made it difficult to speak. She mumbled something incoherent and was met with a knee in her side.

"Not reading!" She said through gritted teeth, rolling her neck to the other side because it felt like it was stuck in the position it had been forced into. Leto prepared to hit her again, but she held up a hand. "I confess, I was trying to read. It was a children's book, Master, one of the ones used to entertain Mistress Ni's children when they visit, but I only knew three of the words. Please, Master, that letter is not for me."

Leto smirked, grabbing the hand she had foolishly raised and twisting it viciously. A sharp exclamation of pain escaped Marian, and his lips parted and stretched into a cruel smile. "Imagine if the Mistress's children touched one of those books and were infected with your stupidity," Leto twisted her wrist further and Marian bit down on her tongue. "I shall have to buy new ones." He released Marian and turned towards the fireplace. Marian tasted blood in her mouth.

"It is not unlikely you would attempt something so obviously idiotic," he mused. "Being such as you are." He looked at the envelope once more before tossing it onto the floor. "However, I have decided to believe that you are a loyal dog to you Master. This is addressed to you, so you may have it."

The envelope was too far away for Marian to reach it without making her curiosity obvious. She sat obediently on her knees but her eyes cast themselves greedily onto the small prize she had won. Leto terrified and disgusted her, but his unpredictability had actually played out in her favor. She was sure the gesture was a mocking one. Give an illiterate slave something requires literacy to unlock. Her want of it must have been apparent because the Magister scoffed.

"A most pathetic mystery, truly. You may try to lick it or rub it about your face or whatever it is dogs do with toys when you are out of my company. Right now you are to accompany me to Danarius's mansion. Come."

Marian was sure to conceal the envelope within her clothes. Throughout the day she placed her hand over its hiding place obsessively to reassure herself it was still there.

Marian sat in front of a rectangular, cracked mirror propped against a wall in the slave quarters. In her hand she held, unsteadily, a pair of scissors. All of her black hair, from the tied twine at the top of her ponytail to the end, was charred and gnarled. It had been extremely embarrassing returning to the mansion in this state.

Marian had gently wrapped her torso with clean bandages. Her outfit had several metal buckles that had dug into her sides all day and irritated the broken skin there. Her shirt was heavy, coarse leather, and it had rubbed against the bloody, cracked skin mercilessly. The fresh, white bandages were a welcome relief.

Marian had accompanied Leto to a dinner gathering at Magister Danarius's estate. There were several Masters and Mistresses gathered, each with an accompanying slave or two. Master Leto had Marian kneel next to his chair, as was usual, and she held his wine glass. Mistress Hadrianna was among the guests present and she babbled her nonsense all night long. Hadrianna was a prodigious Lyrium expert, but all the hours spent being so close to the raw ore had done something to her mind. She had never been a pleasant woman; now she was a right terror. It was Mistress Hadrianna who brought the worst slaves. They groped the female slaves who got within range of their hands, and when Marian had risen to refill Leto's wineglass one of Hadrianna's elves grabbed her ass. Marian's mood had been souring all night. She had grabbed the elf's hand, twisted it, and then slammed it onto the table. Hadrianna gave a wild shriek, leapt out of her seat, and pointed a bony finger at Marian. Between the screams of the Magister and the string of cuss words from the elf with the broken hand, she could hear Leto's mocking laughter. Then she smelled fire.

Hadrianna finally calmed down and stopped screaming long enough to join the chorus of people who were laughing at Marian. Luckily, the conversation fluidly moved away from the "idiot slave girl" and back to the main discussion of the night.

Magister Hadrianna had brought up an interesting topic – using lyrium implanted directly into the skin of a mage to permanently augment magical powers. Magister Leto listened to her describe the process hungrily.

"Would it effectively enhance," he inquired. "The magical abilities of one such as myself?"

Hadrianna cracked a smile. She had been waiting for him to join the conversation. "You are referring to your Arcane Warrior abilities?" The rest of the assembled Magisters were then fully focused on Leto. He reveled in the attention; the art of Arcane Warriors had been completely forgotten… until him. And the secret stayed with him. Many had tried and failed to pry the knowledge of funneling magic into strength from him.

"I am glad you asked, Leto," Hadrianna continued, "in fact, I believe someone possessing your skills would be able to benefit the most from lyrium… markings, we'll call them. Lyrium possesses many strange properties, and by placing it on your skin I believe your physical, as well as your magical, prowess would improve greatly."

"But would the lyrium not kill him?" A voice from a Magister Marian did not recognize asked. "To have something as potent as lyrium permanently under the skin is unthinkable! If it does not kill him right away, would it not soon poison him?"

"Ah, but you underestimate the time I have put into researching this, Julia." Hadrianna cleared her throat, and Marian knew she was about to launch into a spiel about her extensive knowledge of lyrium, her dedication to safety… Marian ignored most of it and began mentally fretting about her burned hair. When she did tune back in, Hadrianna was ending her speech.

"… and so, the lyrium has been diluted to a point where it is completely harmless but is still able to greatly enhance magical potency. I assure all of you in this room that it is completely safe."

Leto was obviously very interested. He was so focused on the idea that he could become ever more powerful that he forgot to reprimand Marian for breaking the other slave's hand.

Marian cut off her ponytail. One snip of the scissors and twelve inches of hair fell to the floor. She felt a pang of emotion – sadness? It was only hair. Yet it was a definite part of her. And just like so much, it was lost in an instant. Marian rolled her eyes at her reflection. It was only hair. She combed the remaining hair forwards to inspect it for any remaining charred ends. Having bangs was new to her; she had always stuck with parting her hair down the middle for convenience sake. They were rather long, but Marian didn't feel like cutting any more hair off than necessary. She pushed them to one side and inspected herself. Her new haircut was a bit blocky in the back and layered strangely, but Marian wasn't sure how to fix that; she had never cut her hair beyond a simple trim before. This would have to do.

A/N: This story is a big WIP that will probably have large gaps between updates. I'm sorry for any errors in spelling or grammar, and if they are pointed out to me I'lll fix them. Other characters (Anders, Aveline, Isbella, etc.) may show up in this story briefly later on for little cameos.


	2. Reading the Letter

The next day, Varania visited. Marian wasn't sure if she had been at the dinner last night; she didn't remember her being there, but Varania was a rather quiet woman, easy to miss in a crowd. She had probably been there, judging by the conversation she and Leto were having.

"You can't trust Hadrianna! She's half out of her mind. As your sister I have a right to talk you out of -"

Leto's eyes narrowed when he spotted Marian lingering outside the room. She quickly moved on.

Marian was headed towards the kitchens. It had been almost two days now since she had eaten, as part of her punishment for trying to read. She was counting on persuading the cook out of some leftover bits from lunch, if said cook was in a good mood.

Unfortunately, Marian stepped into a kitchen in turmoil. The few paid servants who worked in the mansion worked here in the kitchen. All of them, currently, were either standing on chairs or scrambling to get to one. Only the head cook was standing calmly on the floor. Calmly, but angrily.

Marian caught sight of what had spooked the kitchen staff. Giant rats: how gross. They were a ridiculously hard to exterminate pest, able to resist several different types of poisons, and they built their nests too far underground for hounds or cats to dig up. Speaking of hounds, Marian wondered if the cook's own mabari was nearby to help.

"Aveline!" Marian called across the tumultuous kitchen. Aveline gave her a slight nod of recognition as she crushed a rat's head underneath the heel of her boot. Marian flinched. Ew. _Ew_.

"You're a bit in the way, Marian," Aveline said as she mercilessly swept rats around with a broom, trying to corral them all into a storage room where Marian could see the cook's faithful mabari working as co-exterminator. Marian backed up into the doorway to stay out of Aveline's rampaging path.

"Need any help?" Marian offered.

"No." Aveline answered.

"You sure?"

"What do you _really_ want, Marian?" Aveline stopped rat-sweeping for a moment to look at her. "On second thought, come back later and tell me then."

Marian's stomach answered for her. "Alright, I don't really feel like eating food from a rat-infested kitchen anyways."

Aveline glared at her. "If you want food, don't sass the cook." She warned. "Come back later, this will be cleaned up soon. Oh, and Marian;" Marian peeked her head back in the door. "Don't mention this to the Magister. I mean it."

Marian didn't mention it to the magister. Instead, she tidied up one the rooms near to the one in which Leto and Varania were conversing. Marian always had to be close to her master in case a situation should arise where he needed his bodyguard. Marian couldn't imagine why she was his bodyguard; Magister Leto was a mage, and although he specialized in his Arcane Warrior arts, he was still more than deadly with normal spells. He didn't need protecting; Marian was more like a meat shield. Out of all the slaves Danarius had gifted Leto when he ended his apprenticeship, Marian was neither the most durable nor the most skilled in combat. If a wall of expendable flesh between himself and an enemy was what the magister wanted, Marian certainly fit the quota of "replaceable."

Marian came from Ferelden. There had been an outbreak of plague, so she had been told, that wiped out many of the smaller farming communities to the west. Her parents perished from the plague, along with most of her village, and the kind slavers saved her and brought her to Tevinter. She was six years old at the time, and was bought by Magister Danarius at an auction when she arrived. Magister Danarius had two apprentices; Leto and Hadrianna. They were both young, twelve at the time, and as Marian struggled through life as a slave she watched them master their magic, their cruelty, and their selfishness. At eighteen, Leto and Hadrianna were given Magister status. All Marian had been given for the last six years was bruises, back-breaking work, and tiny portions of rotting food. And then she was given to Leto.

Newly-titled Magister Leto lined all of his slaves up one day, the ones gifted to him and the ones he purchased himself, and ordered them to do several physical tests: jumping jacks, pushups, hops, skips, spins, etc. And, for some reason, he chose Marian to begin training with daggers and bows. She was twelve, maybe thirteen, and was suddenly and quite unexpectedly expected to defend her new master with her life using knives that she was more likely to accidentally drop than actually hit someone with. She was required to follow him and carry his things, and lived her first year with him in complete terror that she would actually end up dying.

She didn't. No attempts were made on the magister's life, and now, nine years later, she was still doing her job. Her prowess with bows had greatly increased, but she had never had to use them yet. Leto preferred dispatching any enemies he made by himself in duels. Marian knew how he killed. It was horrific.

Marian returned to the kitchens later as she had said she would. Aveline had apparently fixed the rat problem, and all of the kitchen staff was back in working order. The staff was precise and swift, and Aveline was always running them at their best. Magister Leto's kitchen was probably the most proficient in Tevinter.

"You should have been a solider." Marian joked as she watched Aveline inspect her workers.

"I was." Was the head cook's short reply.

"Oh – why cook now?" Marian inquired as she not-so-stealthily picked up a nearby slice of bread topped with cheese.

"My husband died, and I wound up here."

Marian guessed there was much more to it than that, but she didn't prod. She had what she came for.

"Thanks!" She paired with a parting smile.

Varania continued her visit to the estate for several more days. She kept the magister busy, so Marian had little to do. Marian had always liked (although she had never spoken to her) Varania. She liked the colour of her hair – how it was redder than Leto's dark brown – and her soft way of speaking. She wasn't rude to the slaves who were waiting on her, and she always looked very regal when she sat in a chair with her ankles crossed and her chin tilted slightly upwards, but she never gave off an aura of violent superiority like Leto did. Marian saw little of her, however, as she stayed mostly confined to either her room or walked the grounds.

"Pardon me, mistress." Marian swept herself out of the way of the lady magister on her way to the kitchens.

Varania stopped her with an "Oh –"

Marian rose her head, surprised. "Please, let me be of service." She stuttered slightly on the 'please'.

"You are my brother – Leto's – bodyguard, yes?" Varania asked.

"Yes, mistress." Answered Marian.

"Marian?"

Marian caught herself gaping. She didn't manage to reply – was this… friendliness? Marian would have been certain she was being mocked, but Varania's face displayed only a true, sweet smile. Calling a slave by their name in pleasant terms was unheard of.

"O-oh, excuse me, I mean, that is you, correct?" Varania was only contributing to the awkwardness of the conversation and continuing to shock Marian.

"Yes – I, yes, mistress, that is my name." Marian managed to spit out. Varania nodded quickly and excused herself.

"And they she said '_excuse me'_!" Marian was relaying her encounter with the lady magister to Aveline.

Aveline was just as awed as she had been.

"But that's not why I came to talk to you." Marian slipped her hand into her pocket. "I have–"

"**MARIAN**." A voice roared. Marian leapt to her feet. Without wishing Aveline goodbye she nearly flung herself out of the room.

Magister Leto greeted Marian with a slap to the face. He was walking too quickly to issue any more physical punishment at the moment. Marian kept stride with him after a moment of recovery. The magister heading towards the front doors.

"You were lazing about with the cook," Stated the magister as Marian opened the one of the double doors and held it for him. "No more – you're not allowed near the kitchens any longer. I'll have to punish the head cook as well. Disgraceful." Leto was speaking mostly to himself. Marian knew the punishment as soon as Leto had shouted her name. Never be too far to not be of assistance. It was a stupidly simple rule that Marian had blundered.

Now, she wouldn't be able to show Aveline the letter. She may as well give up on it being read.

Leto never told Marian where they were going, but once she saw eerie, purple towers manifest in the distance she knew that they were en route to Hadrianna's hellhole.

Marian stood attentively by the wall of Hadrianna's massive foyer. All magister's homes were enormous, but Hadrianna's was practically a castle. She had been Danarius's star pupil, and he rewarded her well for it. Leto was viciously jealous, and it showed. He had the entire conversation with Hadrianna in the foyer and deflected all of her attempts to get him inside to a more comfortable room.

"I do not need long. A week, maybe two, to prepare. I will send word when I am ready"

Hadrianna had a glint in her eyes that could only be described as evil. She grinned at Leto like a wolf grins at her next meal. However, Hadrianna always looked like she was about to murder someone. It was hard to tell if this was her regular expression or a terrible foreshadowing of what her experiment would entail. At any rate, Leto did not look perturbed in the slightest.

"As quickly as possible." Leto urged her as they left. Hadrianna promised, with several sweeping hand gestures and many long, useless words, as he slammed the door behind them.

Leto strode inside when they arrived back at the estate muttering about a 'headache' and going 'immediately to bed'. Marian didn't make it through the front entrance. Instead, she took a sharp turn at the door and began walking alongside the perimeter of the mansion. She had been thinking about it on the carriage ride home – about speaking to Aveline one last time. Show her the letter. The kitchen had an entrance into the garden, and it was the one that the staff used to enter and leave the estate. If she were lucky, Marian would catch Aveline outside. It would likely be her last chance to speak with her. Once Leto told Aveline that Marian had been banned from interacting with her or any other member of the kitchen staff, she would be impossible to contact. Aveline actually followed orders.

It was Marian's lucky day. Aveline was standing outside, just about it head back in, when Marian quietly called out her name.

It caught her attention. Marian motioned for her friend to meet her in a shadowed corner of the outer wall.

"Marian?" Aveline stood in the shadows now with her. "Why are you over here? Let's speak inside."

"No." Marian quickly stopped Aveline from turning and walking away. She spoke in hurried whispers. "I need you to look at this. Please. Don't let anyone else see it."

Marian handed Aveline the letter she had been protecting. Aveline's face filled with confusion.

"Where did you get this?" She demanded.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Marian promised. "Just please, please, tell me what it says!"

Dusk had fallen quickly on the garden. The shadows the two stood in had extended their fingers across the grass and were threatening to swallow everything.

"I need some light." Aveline explained, backing away towards the door.

"No, not inside!" Marian begged.

"I'll be right back," Aveline promised.

Marian waited. The last bits of light were leaving the sky. Everything was a solid, fluid black now. It got so dark in Tevinter.

Marian felt she had waited an eternity leaning against the wall. Every sound started her – owls, crickets, critters in the bushes. She nearly screamed when a hand brushed against her shoulder.

It was only Aveline. Marian could see her face only dimly in the night air. It was painted with astonishment that shone even through the darkness.

"Has anyone else read this?" Aveline demanded.

"The seal was still intact, wasn't it? You're the only person I've shown it to."

"Aveline swallowed and shook her head. "I don't know if I can help you. I – this is for the Magister to read. Only he can do something with it."

"But it was addressed to me!" Marian was dying to know what it said. "Tell me what was in it!"

Aveline took a deep breath. "Marian you – your sister wrote this letter –"

"Sister?" Marian interjected.

"Hush!" Aveline snapped. "Your sister has written that you are to be… freed. She has written the address of her home…" Aveline trailed off. Marian was ready to scream with impatience.

"What the hell are you stopped for? Keep going, for Andraste's sake!"

"Not her home," Aveline barely whispered."

"What?"

"Not her home." She repeated. "Her estate. You sister is a magister."

"_No_." Marian hissed. "That's not what it said. You're _lying._"

"You have freedom!"Aveline handed the letter back to Marian. "Don't throw it away."

"I'd just be moving from one magister to another. That's not freedom."

"Your sister might be different! She's not buying you as a slave. She's freeing you so that you can be her sister."

"Why would she want to be my sister? We've never met." Marian crushed the letter back into her pocket. What an utter disaster.

"Marian, calm down." Aveline ordered. "You're angry: completely, irrationally angry. Do you really want to stay here? As Magister Leto's slave?"

Aveline's logical was irrefutable, but it didn't stop Marian from seething.

"Why a magister sister? Why a _magister_?"

"She didn't choose to be born with magic as much as you didn't choose to be born without it."

"I _would_ choose to be born without it." Marian hissed.

"You're not listening. Give the magister the letter. He has to free you. She cited some 'blood-ties' law. It's true – you shouldn't be a slave if you have living magister relatives."

"If I hand this to Leto he'll just throw it into the fire."

Aveline considered that. After a pause she said, much to Marian's utter surprise, "What about Varania?"

"You're kidding."

Aveline shook her head. No, she was not kidding.

Marian didn't know what to say. Then, finally:

"Just… tell me everything that was in the letter. I won't decide anything until I know everything."

And so Aveline told her. Marian had a younger sister, the magister, named Bethany. She also had a younger brother, non-magical, as she is, named Carver. Bethany learned of Marian's existence and searched for her lost sister with the goal to bring her back into the family. She was prepared to pay any sum of money for Marian's release, and, as Aveline had previous said, brought up an old, ignored blood-tie law that stated that any close relative of a Magister's who had not been sold by that Magister but was currently enslaved was, legally, supposed to be free, if relation to a Magister could be proved. Bethany also included the address of her estate and extended a warm invitation for Marian to "come home" as soon as her Master released her, which she was certain he would do.

"She's awfully optimistic." Marian grumbled.

After much debate, whining, and angry whispering, Marian accepted that it was her only choice. If she wanted her freedom, it would be through the Leto's sister. It would take more than just luck to get Varania to agree to plead Marian's case to Leto. It was probably impossible. And it had a deadline. She was leaving in a week.

Marian said goodbye and goodnight to Aveline for the last time.

A/N: This feels rushed to me, but I had to get something out. Remember how I said long waits? I'm really bad at beginnings. The first few chapters will be drawn out and written quickly whenever I get a spark of inspiration. I have a lot more ideas for future chapters. I can't promise they'll come faster, but I'll try?

Why Aveline as a cook? I assumed that, after Wesley died, and without Hawke there to be a new emotional focus, Aveline would completely lose her motivation. She could end up anywhere, so why not Tevinter? And Hawke needed a friend to keep her spirit alive. A hollow, robot-slave Hawke wouldn't be a very fun character. Sorry if this isn't the best chapter! The next one will really spur off the plot.


End file.
